the month. I’m telling you the man is a shit, and if I wasn’t such a lady I’d punch him in the mouth.’
Weston laughed, teasing Beth as she summoned a waiter. ‘Being a lady’s never stopped you in the past.’
Beth grinned. ‘He’s bigger than me.’ Then to the waiter who was hovering, ‘Get me a Scotch on the rocks.’
‘Since when did you start drinking Scotch?’
‘Just. That Douglas creep has driven me to drink.’
‘So tell me about it. On second thoughts, I think you already have. The last time he dumped on you, and the time before that. I did warn you not to marry him. Come on, Beth, the man is gorgeous; women come on to him, he can’t resist. Why don’t you take my advice, and lose him? Like once and for all.’
‘Would you believe me if I told you we still have a great sex life? And that I love the louse?’
Weston raised her eyes. ‘Now that I can accept. It’s as good a reason as any for staying with the sonofabitch.’
The Scotch arrived and Beth took a sip, wrinkling up her tiny nose as it hit the back of her throat.
‘No, you’re right of course, I should dump him. But a gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do, and I need a little pleasure in life. Running the numbers, playing the financial markets, acquisitions and mergers … moving billions of dollars around the world; believe me, it gets mighty tedious. And after fourteen hours of that every day, getting smashed and getting laid becomes top priority. Doug is convenient and he does it good, better than anyone I’ve ever known; he knows exactly how to ring my bells.’ Beth winked. ‘Know what I mean?’
Weston was about to retort that it had cost Beth dearly, both financially and emotionally, when Kelly swept into the restaurant – causing heads to swivel and subdued appreciative whispers.
Weston felt her heart leap. Kelly had that effect on most people, men and women alike. She was, to say the least, beautiful. But more than just on the surface; she had a radiance, a charismatic aura that was tangible. It was a rare man who was not immediately intoxicated by her; a rare woman who didn’t immediately want to be her. Today she was wearing her long hair piled high on her head in a fashionably messy topknot, several strands fell on to her oval face and down the nape of her long neck. When she reached the table she was smiling, but it wasn’t with her usual all-consuming warmth. This smile was taut, forced, polite, the type normally reserved for an unwelcome or distant acquaintance. Weston knew instinctively there was something awry. Reaching across, she covered Kelly’s hand with her own.
‘What is it, Kelly, is there something wrong?’
Kelly nodded, meeting Weston’s enquiring eyes and acknowledging Beth with a sigh. ‘I need a drink.’ She sat silently until a large glass of white wine was placed in front of her. Then she raised it. ‘First and foremost I want to drink to the Pact.’
The three women raised their glasses and drank. Weston was impatient but she knew not to press Kelly, she would tell all in her own time.
‘To the Pact.’ They said it in unison.
Kelly took three deep gulps of wine, placed her glass down carefully and looked first at Weston, then Beth. ‘Three guesses who I’ve just seen on the corner of Fifth and Fifty-second?’
‘Kevin Costner?’ Beth piped up, giggling.
‘This is serious, Beth.’
With a shrug of her shoulders, Beth retorted, ‘So don’t play games; who did you see?’
‘Jay Kaminsky.’
Weston and Beth both stiffened. Nobody spoke.
Eventually Weston broke the silence. ‘I knew he was out. You got my fax? I read the piece in the Globe.’
Kelly nodded. ‘He’s here, in Manhattan, and –’ She stopped speaking, squeezing Weston’s hand tight.
‘It was a shock seeing him like that, just hanging out at a news-stand buying a paper, looking for all the world like he was on his way to an office on Madison or Park. He was dressed like an uptown lawyer or advertising exec. He’s only a few blocks from here right now. In fact he could walk into this restaurant at any moment. I knew he’d got out, because all the papers announced it. And we all knew his sentence was up. But to see him like that, so close, after so long; wow, it freaked me out.’
Beth had paled. ‘And today of all days.’
‘Yes, today of all days,’ Kelly repeated.
‘So what if Jay Kaminsky is out, what difference does it make?’ Weston tried to calm the other two. ‘How can he harm us? What can he do? He’s a convicted felon, an ex-con; who’s going to take any notice of him? Come on, Kelly, relax.’
When Kelly did not respond she turned her attention to Beth. ‘This year is the twenty-sixth anniversary of our Pact; this is celebration time. We can’t let Kaminsky get in the way. We didn’t back then, so we’re certainly not going to now.’ Weston looked from one apprehensive face to the other. ‘Come on, what’s done is done, no turning back. We’re going forward into the twenty-first century on top, in power, in control.’ Keeping hold of Kelly’s hand, she took Beth’s from her lap and holding it reassuringly tight said, ‘We’ve got each other, nothing and no one is going to change that. Let’s drink to our continuing friendship, and our journey into the next century. Together we can surmount anything: we’re strong, empowered, united.’
Weston raised her glass and drained the last dregs. Kelly took a sip of iced water, and Beth finished her whisky. Their hands were still joined as Carlos came to the table.
‘Message for Mrs Prescott.’
Kelly was handed a slip of paper. On it was one line, neatly handwritten in black ink: The past always has a future.
The flight to Washington landed on time. As she walked through the arrivals terminal, Kelly searched the sea of faces for her driver, Jim. A moment later she spotted him rushing through the revolving entrance doors. He waved and stood still watching her approach.
Kelly felt tired; thoughts of Jay and too much white wine had combined to keep her awake for most of the previous night. Todd was out of town, and wouldn’t be back until later that evening. She moved towards the chauffeur, determinedly pushing all thoughts of Jay to the darkest recesses of her mind.
When she walks
She’s like a samba
That sways so sweet,
And moves so gentle,
And when she passes
He smiles but she doesn’t see …
Jay hummed the tune but the words that rumba’d through his head were not about ‘The Girl from Ipanema’. They were about the girl from Temple Texas who went on to become the girl from Capitol Hill.
Long-limbed, with an ease of movement more usual in a Polynesian princess than an apple-pie, homespun American girl, Kelly looked graceful, sleek and majestic to Jay as he watched her cross the arrivals hall. He had a clear view from his vantage position
